


Critical Mechanisms

by daidoro



Category: Megamind (2010)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Insomnia, Relationship Discussions, Roxanne Ritchi is a Hell of a Girlfriend, discussions about firearms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:53:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26514763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daidoro/pseuds/daidoro
Summary: The de-gun was built with six internal safety devices. People... aren’t.
Relationships: Megamind/Roxanne Ritchi
Comments: 10
Kudos: 147





	Critical Mechanisms

  
  
_There is no warning._ _  
_ _  
_ _One moment, Megamind’s standing by the gift shop, Roxanne laughing by his side as he clumsily scrawls a signature onto the poster of an excited little fan._ _  
_ _  
_ _The next, he hears her gasp, and the de-gun holster by his side is suddenly,_ _unmistakably_ too light.   
  
_He spins to see another child, delightedly brandishing the weapon. He’s laughing as his finger playfully gropes at the trigger, as he spins the selector wheel and peers down the barrel-_  
  
 _There is no time to react, and yet the world is moving in slow-motion. Inexorably, inviolably, the selector clicks over from DE-BILITATE to DE-STROY._ _  
_  
 _He knows this is not how the event unfolded. He remembers the design of each of the internal components that impede the firing mechanism. He sees the indicator light confirming the safety. He knows the worst things to happen had been some stern words and relieved tears._ _  
_ _  
_ _The safeties were on. Ultimately, there had only been an empty, hollow_ click. _  
_ _  
_ _But in his dream, the weapon fires._ _  
_ _  
_ _  
_

* * *

The sun had set hours ago, so when Roxanne wakes to an empty bed and gentle light shining under the door, she doesn’t hesitate.    
  
Minion is already waiting in the hall as she slips out, pulling on a gown over her pajamas. The Lair is always a little cold, even at this time of year when most people would be going to bed in t-shirts and shorts. She’s never minded, though- steel and industrial concrete demand equally warm clothing, and the constant excuse to wear slippers and sweatpants makes for a cozy ambiance.    
  
“The dream again?” She asks, tying the sash closed.   
  
“I’m afraid so, Ma’am,” Minion says. He half-turns in his tank with an anxious flutter of his fins, eyeing the entrance to the laboratory. Harsh golden light pours into the hallway, flickering occasionally to the sound of sparking metal.   
  
_ The microfoundry, _ she guesses,  _ or maybe the arc-welder. _ Megamind’s inspiration has a habit of striking at the most inconvenient times- during city council meetings, at Thanksgiving dinner with Roxanne’s extended family present, oftentimes in the shower, occasionally in  _ bed…  _ But this isn’t like that. He’s gotten a better handle on the social obligations over the last few months. These days he’ll re-emerge from the lab after a few minutes, ink smeared across his blue skin from hurriedly committing an idea or two to reams of drafting paper and an apologetic smile on his face.   
  
Roxanne takes one look at Minion and knows he’s not going to be able to sleep tonight either.   
  
“Why don’t you check on the brainbots,” she says, laying a hand on his massive furred shoulder. “And... some tea, maybe. In a bit.”   
  
“Yes, Ma’am.” Minion bustles away toward the kitchen, clearly thankful for something tangible to do. He always feels frustratingly impotent at times like this, she knows, his instincts more alien than Megamind’s and even less useful for providing emotional support.   
  
Roxanne turns back to the lab, and pushes through the curtain just in time to see Megamind tearing a glare-visor from his face and setting back to work with a multitool. She doesn’t need to say anything, just pulls herself up to sit on the edge of a console to watch, feet dangling over the edge.   
  
Pieces of the de-gun lie scattered around the worktable, amid a careful sprawl of hand tools and detailed schematics. She eyes the clutter quickly- mostly cabling and some connection hardware he used frequently in his days as a villain. Among the pile is a belt and holster she recognizes as standard issue for Metrocity PD. Megamind’s hands dance through their work almost absentmindedly, his face an expressionless mask as he uncouples a series of power cells with deft, practiced motions.   
  
“I’m sorry for waking you,” he says finally. He doesn’t turn away from the table, but she knows how sincerely he means it.   
  
“It’s fine,” she says. “Do you want to talk about it?”   
  
A one-shoulder shrug, and he picks up a wrench again. A power cell clicks softly as he tightens one of its control rings. Roxanne waits until he tosses that one aside into a small cubby set into the table’s surface, lined with inertion foam, and picks up another. This one is bolted to a square mounting bracket, the cell still live, and the glow casts irregular shadows across the sliver of his face that’s visible at her angle.   
  
“These things happen sometimes,” she says eventually. There’s a new tension in his shoulders, but her instinct encourages her to keep pushing, and she knows enough to recognize it as the girlfriend-instinct, not the _ nosy-reporter-instinct  _ that’s been known to get her into trouble.   
  
Megamind doesn’t say anything. He begins removing the bolts that hold the bracket assembly in place, the metal protesting audibly. The cells are robustly shielded, but over time they have a tendency to magnetize surrounding metal together in odd ways. He and Minion have discussed workarounds before, but she doesn’t know the details. They don’t matter.    
  
“You can’t expect yourself to be perfect.”    
  
She keeps pushing gently, even as the climate control fan cuts back out and her voice becomes the only sound in the laboratory. Megamind doesn’t respond, continues twisting the bracket until his fingers tremble and begin to whiten at their tips.   
  
Roxanne sighs.   
  
“Sometimes you just have to accept that it’s  _ not your fault.” _   
  
Megamind’s wrench cranks a quarter-turn too far and the bolt cracks, the impact clearly numbing his hands and scattering metal filings across the table.    
  
There’s a long silence, broken only by the fragments’ echoes through the cavernous Lair. Devastatingly slowly, the power cell rolls to a halt just before dropping onto the floor. The glow illuminates Megamind’s face as he finally looks up at her.    
  
_ Helpless. _ _   
_ _   
_ He hasn’t looked so defeated since…  _ that  _ night. In the rain, when she left him. When she looked back.   
  
“Of course it was my fault,” he whispers. “If not me, then who, Roxanne?”   
  
“Sometimes things just happen, sweetheart,” Roxanne says, sliding off the counter to pull him into her. He doesn’t protest, just lets her hands run over his shoulders and the back of his neck soothingly. “Sometimes nobody did anything wrong, and they just happen anyway.”   
  
He shakes his head, but his eyes are closed and he leans into her touch wearily, pressing their foreheads together.   
  
“There has to be something. There’s always something that can be fixed for next time.” He leans back, opening his eyes, and for a moment she can see that old familiar gleam of dark humor. “Don’t forget, Miss Ritchi… I know more than anyone about failure.”   
  
“Maybe,” she says. “But you never let anyone down, not when it really matters.”   
  
He looks away, a reluctant flush tinting his skin violet, and she can’t help hiding a smile at the sight.   
  
“Come on,” she says, tugging at his hand. “Explain it to me. You’ll feel better.”   
  
“... Alright,” he sighs.   
  
They take a few moments to collect the scattered equipment, Megamind rapidly sorting through them until the gun lies on the table, in pieces but still a recognizable silhouette.   
  
“The de-gun has six internal safety devices,” he says, voice barely audible. “It doesn’t use conventional ammunition or a firing pin, but similar concepts to a grip safety and firing pin block are in place, which are numbers one and two. The power source is only moved into battery with the emitter module when the trigger forms a weak electrical circuit with the user, that’s another.”   
  
“With the user? Like a touchscreen?” Roxanne aks.   
  
“That’s right. For example, my gloves- and Minion’s suit- are specially treated around the trigger-finger to allow for a connection to be made. Without that circuit, the power source never even connects to the rest of the weapon.”   
  
Roxanne swallows her follow-up question about skin chemistry and simply nods. Can’t afford to derail this by chasing the rabbit hole just yet.    
  
_ That’s dinner-table conversation, anyway, _ she notes amusedly.   
  
“This piece,” Megamind continues, indicating a spidery-looking spring with several tiny nodes on each end, “Is the residual charge escapement. It vents any built-up static or leftover charge back into the battery, so there’s no energy for the weapon to misfire without deliberate contact being made with the trigger. That’s number four.”   
  
“And the others… uhm. A drop safety, and something else?” Roxanne asks, racking her brain to remember what she’d learned about firearms, mostly from old police procedurals.   
  
“Yes, in an oblique manner. Here, the emitter module and fire-select dial are held apart from the other systems by a pair of stabilized O-rings, which are shock resistant and also serve as the waterproofing joint. This same rubber formula- which is a  _ nightmare  _ to concoct, let me tell you- also acts as a field insulator for the final safety mechanism. Care to guess, Miss Ritchi?”   
  
Roxanne pulls her attention away from the problem for a moment, and yes, there it is. A little bit of Megamind’s villainous drama is soaking back through his expression, challenging her. Daring her.   
  
“The power cell,” she answers, after a brief hesitation. “The most dangerous part, if it malfunctions. You had to make an off button. Or- no- an abort solution, like the SCRAM in a nuclear reactor.”   
  
He smiles now, a low and honest glint of teeth that has always proved  _ dangerous  _ for Roxanne’s sense of self-control. She loves this most about Megamind- the way he absolutely  _ delights  _ in her constant inquisitiveness, never once making her feel too nosy or out of place. Like a secret, or a private conversation between the two of them. And isn’t that what it was? Even when she was tied to a chair in front of the city’s cameras he was setting her up, letting her news reports set the pace for his next big plot. Always a twist, always that hidden rhythm.   
  
“Exactly,” he says, in a low pleased purr, and she swallows and looks back to the table because this is  _ not the time- _ “In fact, the power cell is held under a special sort of antagonizing field, which excites the cell into its usable state. If any part of the weapon detects damage or gets knocked out of alignment, the antagonizing field deactivates. Without it, the cell’s own particle field collapses, and the whole thing is permanently rendered inert.”   
  
“So the containment field is always active? Wouldn’t that drain the cell really quickly?” Roxanne prompts, reading Megamind’s expectant expression.    
  
“It does,” he says. “There’s a separate battery inside the holster, so that the main power cell isn’t tapped until the weapon has been drawn.”   
  
“Hmm. So,” she says, and the room is quiet again.   
  
“So,” he agrees softly. “It shouldn’t have happened.”   
  
_ But it didn’t happen,  _ she bites back before she can regret it. He knows it didn’t happen, and drawing attention to the irrationality of the dream will wrap the discussion back around into unproductive territory. A more subtle approach, then.   
  
Roxanne glances in the direction of the curtain. There’s a few moments left before the Lair’s kettle will have been brought to a boil, and Minion has a habit of making his appearance at the opportune time. She has a minute or two.   
  
“So, Mr. Megamind, Defender of Metrocity,” she says, using the Reporter Voice. His eyes are on her before she even finishes, defying him to continue the thought and edging the conversation away from any self-blame. “What do you plan to do next?”   
  
His lips quirk upward, like he knows what she’s doing but doesn’t want to-  _ can’t-  _ deny her the game. Still, his eyes are downcast as he motions to the police belt and holster on the table.   
  
“MPD uses a kind of retention holster that’s designed to be difficult to draw from at an angle,” he says. “I’m planning to engineer something similar, one that only allows the wearer to access the weapon, but…”   
  
He makes a vague sort of frustrated motion with both hands, one that turns tired and falls apart at the end.   
  
“It’s treating the symptoms, not the issue,” he murmurs. “I’m dangerous. The- the things I make are dangerous. Even when they weren’t  _ weapons _ , Roxanne- do you remember, how many deathtraps and battlesuits and self-destructing machines we used to go through? How many people could have been-”   
  
“Shhh,” she says, stepping back in. He trails off as she runs the backs of her fingers down his cheeks, presses away the tears of frustration that had escaped. “That isn’t you. You and Wayne don’t do that anymore. You are working  _ so hard  _ to keep this city safe.”   
  
“That’s the problem, though, isn’t it?” He says bitterly. “I’m still the same. Still reckless. Still making deathtraps. Still endangering the public. I just… I just play for the other side, now.”   
  
Roxanne hears Minion’s suit approaching, through the tattered curtain, and smiles at him.   
  
“Do you know the difference between being brave and being reckless, Megamind?” She asks.   
  
He makes an indifferent noise, glancing back at the table despondently.   
  
“Presentation,” she says. He looks up with a grin, and Minion finally pushes through the curtain, holding a tray of cookies. Behind him, a sleepy pair of brainbots float forward, clutching steaming cups of tea and hot chocolate.   
  
“Very well said, Ma’am,” he announces primly, setting the tray down.    
  
_ “Bowg,” _ adds one of the brainbots.   
  
“Yes, yes, alright,” Megamind replies with a reluctant laugh, giving them an indulgent few pats on the braincase. “Very well done, you two. Thank you, Minion. And you, Miss Ritchi.”   
  
Roxanne’s heart can’t help but skip a beat as he looks sincerely at her, over his mug of hot chocolate.    
  
“Thank you,” he says. “There’s still a... a number of things to be done, of course.”   
  
“But?” She asks, taking a slow sip of tea.   
  
“But they can… wait until morning?” He finishes, smiling when her eyes flash approval.   
  
It won’t last, of course. She knows that. This sort of event can have very  _ real,  _ very lasting repercussions. As a reporter, she knows exactly how this has changed things for them.   
  
But as for Megamind’s dreams, well. She can damn well do something about those. 

There’s… a kernel of truth to them, of course. He’s not  _ wrong  _ about their jobs being dangerous sometimes. But this new danger is one Metrocity needs; a danger that can be harnessed and directed with the purpose of keeping people safe. Even Metroman hadn’t been perfect every time.    
  
The city is safer with them looking after it. Roxanne believes that without reservation. Any doubt she may have is erased when she imagines the next battle. The next supervillain.

The next night like this.

So Megamind will continue engineering solutions to the problems, and Minion will keep bringing the tea and a reassuring distraction at exactly the right time, and Roxanne will step in whenever she sees their hands start to shake. In a way, her function is to act like a kind of safety, herself.

“Why don’t we go back to bed, sweetheart?” She says. 

“Mm,” Megamind agrees, finally pulling his attention away from the disassembly table.

They leave the mugs on the tray, and the Lair’s fan quietly hums to life again behind them.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah so I finally wrote a Megamind thing. It shouldn't have taken this long to finish.
> 
> Huge thanks to everyone in the fandom for all the inspiring fic. This fandom has some of the most passionate writing I've seen from any media, it's incredible.


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